#that boy would win with you or with your spine

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 8

Hello! It does look like there is only one more chapter to write on Paper Hearts so yay!!! I'm not sure how much longer Sweet Home Indiana is but it's nearing it's end too.

Steve is never going to go to another party after this, Eddie gets book two of the Boy with a Bat, and they have a frank discussion about how Eddie gets paid for his less than legal side gig.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

trigger warning: homophobic language by an OC.

****

At least the swim team knew to how to throw a party. Lyle was hosting and even though his family wasn’t well off, not like Steve’s parents, there was still enough room for the whole team and a few of their friends to have a good time.

Granted there wasn’t any booze, not openly anyway, but there were ice chest after ice chest of canned sodas. And all kinds, too. Steve was on his third Coke and had already sussed out the dude with the beer and was working his way over.

Going right up to the guy was asking for trouble that neither of them wanted.

The music wasn’t too loud, but you could dance to it in the main part of the house. People were actually laughing and having fun.

Which really should have been Steve’s cue. The universe was out to get him and wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace.

He had almost reached the guy with the beer when Ezra blocked his path.

“Hey, Steve,” he greeted syrupy sweet. “I’m so glad you made it out. I wasn’t sure if you would come without Eddie Munson.”

Steve frowned and tried to move around his co-captain. “I go lots of places without Eddie. I went to nationals without him, didn’t I?”

Ezra put his hand on Steve’s chest to stop him. “Sure you did, but we didn’t win nationals now, did we?”

Steve looked down at the hand on his chest. “We swam our hearts man, the other teams were just better. Hell, that team from Georgia was on fire.”

Ezra snorted and rolled his eyes. “They only got where they were because they were black. They didn’t have any real talent. Not like us. Not like you and me, Steve.”

“Are you saying Lyle and Nick held us back?” he asked with his brow furrowing deeper in his confusion.

“We’ve always known that Lyle is a strong swimmer and not a fast one,” Ezra moaned waving the drink in his other hand around. “But he’s all this shit town has on offer.”

Steve gently pushed Ezra off of him. “Hey, how about not talking shit about the actual host, man.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he huffed. “That’s not even why I’m over here. I’m here to warn you about Munson.”

And there it was. Everyone in his life had felt the need at some point in the last six months to warn him off the super senior.

The other boy leaned in close, his lips a snarl. “He’s a queer, a little faggot boy,” he hissed, the spit landing on Steve’s face. “It’s the town’s worst kept secret.”

Ice slid down Steve’s spine. Oh shit. Of all the places he thought the other co-captain was going to go, that was not it. Drugs. DND. The ranting on table tops. All that slid away to sheer terror.

“And you better not bend over in the showers,” Ezra continued, “a pretty thing like you would just be his type.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that if you can’t pay for your weed,” Ezra sneered, “that he’s willing to take a blowjob as payment instead.” He leaned further into Steve’s space, so that they were almost touching, the stench of weed radiating off the other boy in waves. “I saw Harry Masters sucking him off for a gram of the good stuff.”

Steve stomach lurched and swooped, bile rising up in his throat. Harry Masters was on the baseball team. He was tall, good looking, with that devil may care charm of Rob Lowe. Looked like him, too.

“What he does or doesn’t do doesn’t effect me, man,” he said, trying to aim for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

Ezra laughed in his face.

“Dude,” he cackled, “if you didn’t want people to think you’re down bad for ‘the Freak’ maybe rein in the eye fucking. I’ve seen the way you look at him and it makes me sick.”

That was when Steve got it. He had been wondering what the hell this conversation was.

“Oh my god!” he laughed. “Fuck, man, you were scaring me for a second there. You’re just jealous I don’t have the hots for you.”

Ezra pushed him. “The fuck I do, Harrington!”

“No, no!” Steve crowed. “I’ve got it all figured it out. All the times I caught you staring at me, all the times I felt someone watching me, all the times you’d try to keep me late after practice. You wanted me all to yourself.”

His co-captain turned purple with rage and swung at Steve, but before he could even flinch, there was someone at his side, holding Ezra’s wrist to keep the hit from even going anywhere near Steve’s face.

“Eddie!” Steve breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie smiled at him with that soft dimpled grin Steve loved. “Hey ya, Stevie. I was just plying my wares when I heard the commotion and came over to make sure you were all right.”

“So you are my good luck charm,” Steve said brightly.

Ezra wrenched his arm out of Eddie’s hand. “This doesn’t concern you, Freak!”

Eddie leaned in close and cocked his head to the side. “It does, because you were talking shit about me and Stevie, here. And as Stevie’s good friend, I’mma gonna come to his rescue. Now, you’re going to skedaddle on home and sleep all this off.”

Ezra spat in his face. “Or what?”

The older teen just smiled menacingly. “Or else that gram you smoked will be the last you ever smoke, because I’ll report to you for doping for matches.”

Ezra paled and he gulped. “You can’t do that! I’ve never done anything but weed.”

“That’s true,” Eddie admitted. “But they’d have to do this big investigation and your name would be dragged through the mud. Or you could toddle off and go to college and leave this town in your rearview mirror.”

Ezra turned on his heel and ran out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Steve shook his head. “You do know this is where all the allegations about you being a devil worshiping cult leader come from, right?”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “They can think all they want.”

*

Eddie and Steve talked about what Ezra had said about how people make payments for their weed.

“I won’t deny that people have offer to blow me or even have sex with me in exchange for drugs,” Eddie said as they lay curled up on his bed. “But I’ve never taken anybody up on that.”

Steve twisted his head to look up at his boyfriend. “I can’t say I’m not pleased to hear that, but is there a reason why?”

“Several,” he admitted pulling Steve in closer. “One is that there is an actual fucking pandemic going on regarding gay men, and I wouldn’t trust those assholes even with a condoms. Another is that if I say yes to one, then I’ve got to say yes to next guy. And as my supplier wants actual cash for his product, blow jobs aren’t currency in any country I know of. And despite what Ezra said, most of the people offering aren’t men.”

Steve hummed as he snuggled under Eddie’s chin. “I can see that. Any other reasons why you won’t?”

“Does having a super hot boyfriend count?” he chuckled.

Steve kissed the underside of his jaw. “That’s a very good reason.” His hand slipped down his boyfriend’s side and to his belt. “A super hot boyfriend who is very grateful for the rescue.”

Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers ghosted over his zipper. “Yeah and how are you going to show that gratitude?”

Steve slid down Eddie body and undid his belt. “I was thinking it was such a shame you didn’t get those blow jobs when your cock is so delectable.”

Eddie gasped and threw back his head as his super hot boyfriend’s breath felt hot on the front of his boxers. “God, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

And Steve spent their evening doing just that.

*

Steve fidgeted nervously at Eddie’s locker after school. He had finished the most recent comic with only a week of school to spare. He had made sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t staying after school for any reason so they didn’t see him make the hand off. He knew he should have just done it at the trailer, but with him cutting it so fine before the end of the year, he didn’t want to make Jeff and the others wait for it.

Eddie loped over to his boyfriend and looked around. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He thrust the comic at Eddie, his eyes downcast. “It’s the most recent comic. There’s an explanation like before. But please don’t let people see that part.”

Eddie cradled the comic to his chest. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m guessing this means you aren’t coming over tonight?”

Steve shook his head. “Lucas wants to go see the latest Bond film, but his friends don’t want to go with him...”

“So you offered to take him,” Eddie finished. “That’s sweet of you.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “His parents think I’m taking him to ‘Meet the Littles’ or some shit like that.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, that’s more like the Steve Harrington I know and love.”

“I’ll call when I get home, though...” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Eddie murmured. “Well talk then.”

*

This time Eddie went straight to the back page to read the explanation first.

“Hey, Eds,

Again there are parts in between this, parts that don’t include me, that I’ll some day tell you all about. But I’m focusing on the parts I was part of. This time it all started with what the kids thought was a new species of lizard and turned out to be the beginning stages of an Upside Down monster. One they they dubbed the demodog.

I can just picture you frowning as you try to remember where you heard that from and the answer is you heard it from me. You asked me what it was and I told you it from one of their game thingies, but that’s only part of it. These demodogs have flower faces and run on four legs. They are part of a hive mind that allows them to communicate with each other.

Dustin had taken one of these things home and it ate his cat. His cat. You can be disgusted, I know I was. He had originally gone to Nancy’s for help but she had gone off with Jonathan about something related to Barb Holland. This was right after our fight at the Halloween party.

I was on my way with roses to apologize to her, when he intercepted me. And the rest is as they say is history. I would do anything for that kid now.

The other players are Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield. I don’t know if you need to know that, but I feel like you have to understand that for the rest of it to make sense.

I have so many tales to tell you but I can’t because it could get you hurt and that is the last thing I want to do.

Also, (blurred words) show you all the times I was brave, that I did the (more blurred words) when it came (blurred words) because I love you so much and (blurred words again) less of me.

Love,

Your Stevie”

Eddie hated how easy Steve had pegged him for frowning at the name like he said he would or how he knew he would be disgusted at the poor cat. He stared at the blurred words for a moment before his own eyes welled up.

Steve had tried writing over the parts with what were clearly tear drops but all it had done was make it worse. Why he didn’t just write again, Eddie didn’t know.

But Eddie could now make out the words, “Also, I wanted to show you all the times I was brave, that I did the right thing when it came to it, because I love you so much and I didn’t want you thinking less of me.”

He flipped back to the beginning and started reading. It was thrilling and exciting. That was if you didn’t know it really happened. And happened to the sweetest boy he had the privilege of knowing.

He wiped away his tears and made a promise to whatever it took to protect this boy with every fiber of his being. Because by god, someone had to.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

@messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89

@vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

@angels-of-hades @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce

@acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @kultiras @ravenfrog

[just-a-lil-critter]

Izuku "ima save every emotionally constipated red eyed bitchboy " Midoriya be like:

[steddiewithachance]

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

[norrisleclercf1]

Max and Lando and reader are dating and reader is pregnant and they’re arguing about who the baby is going to look like

A/N: Stopppp they totally would

"You think the baby would have my eyes?" Lando asks, late one night as the three of you lay in bed. You couldn't sleep as the baby was constantly kicking your spine and the boys couldn't sleep as they just got back from Australia and the time change was kicking their ass.

"Pfft, no, I win at everything, you honestly think I didn't win this?" Max snarks that has Lando huffing and cuddling closer and resting his head on the top of your stomach, slowly stroking it. Max was curled around your back and his hands were tangling in Lando's hair.

"I want her to have Lando's eyes, but your hair," You whisper, as the boys knew how much you loved Lando's eyes. "But, you're smile, and how loyal you are Maxie. Lando, I want her to have your drive, to explore her interests, maybe a driver like the both of you, but I want her to love like you two do." You whisper, thinking about the little girl with dirty blonde hair, and gorgeous sea green eyes.

"Babe, that's so sweet, but that doesn't matter right now." Lando whispers and sits up glaring at Max. "Just because you win everything doesn't mean you won this Verstappen. If you happen to remember 7 months agon, it was me who got a podium and got her begging for my-" "Finish that sentence and you'll never see me naked again." You glare which has Lando deflating and Max smirking.

"Sureeeee, but when we went on vacation, I was the one who was buried so damn deep in her." Max argues back and you groan covering your face with a pillow as the boys argue back and forth.

In the end they both lost, because your gorgeous baby girl was an exact carbon copy of you.

[pupkashi]

satoru loves yapping [to you]

satoru was always chatty, shoko could definitely attest to that statement, subjected to too many conversations she definitely did not care about.

“isn’t it hotter than usual? i swear last year it was colder around this time of year-” he began, continuing to talk as shoko tried to focus instead on healing an injured itadori in front of her.

it seemed that his chatty characteristic only amplified when you were around, his eyes would visibly brighten, practically gleaming when you appeared in his eyesight.

“sweetheart! how are you? staying cold in this heat?” you can help but smile at him, walking straight into his already outstretched arms and squeezing his waist a bit, pressing a soft peck to his cheek before pulling away.

“heat? it feels so good out today!” you sigh happily, waving yellow to shoko and itadori, “it is hotter than last year though I’ll tell you that,” satoru grins at your words, turning to shoko with a flint in his eyes before turning back to you.

“that’s what I said! global warming is getting too severe-” the two of you walking out hand in hand, the taller man still talking as you listened intently.

satoru never felt the need to be quiet around you, always finding things to talk about no matter the task or the hour.

“and so you would think that since they were doing so bad they would think of making changes right?” you nod along, humming so he knows you’re listening, “but no! they keep going with same stupid strategy and it’s so frustrating as a fan to see, i just want him to achieve his dreams,” he sighs sadly.

“can you pass the salt?” you ask, taking it from his much larger hand, thanking him before speaking up again, “why does he keep resigning if they always treat him so poorly?” you ask, satoru smiles, heart warming at the fact that you really do pay attention to him.

“he’s always wanted to win with Ferrari- let me take you back to the beginning” he begins, giving you a summary of charles leclerc’s life as you finish cooking dinner.

you could always tell when he got a bit insecure of how talkative he was, but you’d always smile at him, urging him to go on. “and then what? why’d you stop talking?” you’d say, making him smile widely before quietly starting again.

“I’m listening, angel boy,” you mumble in between dreams, listening to him talk about how orange juice isn’t the same as it was when he was growing up and how the new game he downloaded was more complicated than it seems.

it could be nearing 2 in the morning but you wouldn’t mind, satoru would be discussing how and why wombats have cube shaped poops and how koalas eat eucalyptus and pandas have half a brain cell they don’t bother to use.

“it has no real nutritional value and that’s why they have to eat so much of it,” he mumbles, eyes drooping as he cuddles closer to you.

“aren’t they made to digest meat?” you whisper, head tucked into the crook of his neck, your breath running a chill down his spine.

“think so, dunno” he mumbles back, breathing evening out before he’s fully asleep.

your eyes open slowly as you crane your neck, his pink lips slightly parted as he takes soft breaths, snowy hair pointing every which way.

you can’t help but smile at your lover.

“goodnight pretty boy” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “my little yapper,” you chuckle to yourself, already looking forward to what he’d talk about tomorrow.

masterlist

a/n: hi friends ! just a quick little something i put together bc i miss satoru so bad lately </3 he’s def a yapper and i want to hear him talk all day and night

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: Fun fact... The reason I titled this as two sides of the same coin as I was originally planning on making the reader being Azrael's wife and would be [y/n] Eveningstar as Azrael's last name would be Eveningstar 🧍but decided not to lmao.

PART TWO | PART FOUR | NAVIGATION

Charlie stood nervously at the podium, angels above her already judging her. Her eyes noticed the door to the courtroom opens, a familiar angel she met awhile ago, an angel that looked like her father. Xavier was it? If she remembered correctly. She watched as the boy flew up and took his position on the other side of Sera, Emily on the other side of the woman, the older woman in between the two young seraphims.

Charlie could feel the [e/c] orbs staring at her as the boy looked down on her (literally as he was sitting above her).

The meeting began.

Charlie was really hoping to win these angels over, hopefully her brother could help.

But she was slowly getting more and more nervous as the boy looked like he was getting bored from this meeting, the meeting clearly didn't meet his expectations.

Xavier just looked down, eyes half-lidded as he looked at the girl with boredom. All he could see is a plan without enough foundation to work, baseless claims that the hotel will work.

What annoys him is that this is the very same ambition his father proposed years ago. He wasn't there during the meeting but his mother told him about it.

The idea is ridiculous. Sinners were given a chance to live an honest and good life but decided to mess it up and now they're looking for a way to redeem themselves?

Xavier was close to falling asleep in the middle of it, suddenly something caught his interest. Emily, Charlotte, and Sera were arguing but Lute and Adam suddenly butted into the conversation and managed to slip up and revealed a secret.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month... gotta say I can't wait to... Come down and exterminate you.” Adam says mockingly along with Lute.

Xavier's eyes widened, jaw dropping. Looking around to see if he heard it right and base on the others reaction, he heard it right.

The rest of the meeting went by a blur, another secret was revealed and Vaggie, Charlotte's lover was a former exorcist and is a fallen angel.

Frankly, he doesn't care about that. Xavier can only cover his mouth in shock, still in disbelief that these killings are happening without the others knowing.

Heaven is a lie.

Charlie looked at her supposed brother, a slight surprised look on his face. Clearly in disbelief. She couldn't tell if he's mad or not.

Oh, he's mad alright. Mad that a lie this big has been hidden away.

Beyond furious, Xavier glared at Sera. Charlotte and her lover were teleported back to hell after a snap of Adam's fingers.

Killing of souls, damned or not they have no reason for doing this.

Xavier decided to attend the court meeting, curious what fantastic or foolish ideas his half sister had to show them. He didn't expect that this meeting ended up revealing a very heavy secret.

Currently he is comforting Emily as the girl glares at Sera, “Please, if you start to question... You could end up like Lucifer... Fallen.” Sera says, her voice trembling slightly.

Xavier's glare hardened when the older woman mentioned a certain man he hated, Xavier just glared at Sera as the woman gave Emily a kiss on her forehead, he doesn't like how the high Seraphim is hiding a secret this big.

“Xavier.” Sera calls out to him sternly, the boy just gave the woman a raised eyebrow as his face returns to being emotionless. Sera felt chills running down her spine, Lucifer's face is unfortunately plastered on this boy's face, the fallen angel was his father after all.

“I hope you don't tell anyone about this. Especially your mother.” She pleaded and Xavier scoffs, a slight mischievous smile on his face, “Or what? Gonna cast me out to like what you did with my birth father?” he asked sarcastically, Sera's eye twitched.

“Of course, not. That isn't an enough reason to cast you out. Just... Please don't tell her.” the woman explained and Xavier scoffs.

“I love my mother and I can't bear to lie to her face, she already had enough of that. Just expect that this will reach the seven's soon.” He explained before eventually flying down and leaving the courtroom, not giving the woman a chance to speak.

Sera wanted to reach out and stop the boy but he was already gone, lowering her hand slowly. Sighing. He really is Lucifer's son, stubborn.

After all, the apple doesn't really fall far from the tree.

They're just lucky that [y/n] was able to raise the boy properly and was able to inherit most of his mom's personality. The looks however, are unfortunately from his dad.

Sera sighs again. Mentally preparing about the possibilities of what will happen if the seven virtues' know about this.

Charlie's mind was a mess after that meeting, Vaggie gave her some time and space to process everything of what happened.

She can't believe the love of her life is a fallen angel and worse, an ex exorcist! She hid something this big from her! And on top of that, she has a half older brother in heaven?!

Charlie groans, going underneath the covers as she lies on the bed.

She knows the older boy didn't lie as he literally had her father's face except for the eyes and height but everything else was an exact replica. Charlie can't help but be jealous, she could tell how much better the boy was compared to her, the boy carried an air of authority around him.

She feels guilty, she's not stupid. Her dad had that boy while he was in heaven and obviously with someone else, another angel.

Charlie wonders what kind of life her half brother is living up there?

What she does know is that the boy harbors some kind of hatred for her and her family. The boy didn't fully express it but Charlie could feel it, the bubbling rage beneath his exterior when he saw her.

She'll have to ask her dad about this later, once she's mentally okay.

Xavier returned back home, the mansion empty as his mother is away, and they don't have any servants as they prefer a quiet life.

Walking to the living room, his eyes gazed at the large portrait that was displayed on the wall of the living room—a portrait of him and his mom. Him standing at her side while she sat on a regal chair, both of them matching clothes—their heaven uniforms.

His eyes softened, he felt exhausted. Training with his uncle, meeting his half sister, and a secret Sera hid was revealed.

He can't wait for her to come back home, he needed to tell her all about this.

TAGLIST:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

[lilmashae]

❝ say she a good girl , she do p✩rn for me ! ❞

when sunghoon's angel of a girlfriend reveals a streak of her true colors !

you're supposed to be sunghoon's good girl — his princess , always so tame and obedient. so yes , to say he was beyond surprised... that was an understatement. the last thing he expected upon feeling his phone vibrate was a message — from you of all people. before parting ways you'd told him you'd probably take a nap after his disappearance. he had only just left your apartment thirty minutes ago , now sitting comfortably in his lecture hall.

however , it wasn't uncommon for you to get needy , especially while you were trying to find the rhythm of sleep — sunghoon assumed you were texting him to let him know , as you sometimes do. 'hoonie baby! i miss you lots' — the man was expecting something short — chaste and sweet. what he wasn't expecting... was an earful.

as his thumb came down to meet the play button of the audio message — he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. sunghoon's sharp , and as always , he guessed correctly. pornographic moans and whimpers fled from his phone's speaker. they echoed through the large classroom as eyes from arriving students lingered on him. it was beyond embarrassing — and to top it all off , he was painfully hard — his dick straining through his pants that were now two sizes too tight.

the audio hadn't played long before he'd realized what was going on — it was long enough or him to hear the shuffling of your bed sheets and wet noises of your fingers plunging in and out of your sopping cunt , followed by a whimper and you brassly moaning his name. if you thought you would go unpunished , boy , were you wrong — you had to know. you'd be an idiot not to. especially when sunghoon sat uncomfortably , shifting in his seat for the next hour or so.

as soon as the professor dismissed everyone , sunghoon was the first one out — darting across campus and quickly hopping into his car. when he knocked on your door , it's as if all hell rained down — reminiscent of loud claps of thunder.

"sunghoon..?" you rubbed your eyes — still a tad sleepy as he pushed past you and into your apartment. "what's wrong , 'hoonie? i — " you were cut off by the collision of your lips. sunghoon's lips crashed angrily into your own — winning any fight for dominance. as his tongue swiped your bottom lip , you couldn't help letting a moan slip past your lips. his tongue ventured the void of your mouth before he sank his teeth into your bottom lip. you hissed , his tongue prodding at the indent , soothing any bleeding or pain.

"did you have fun?" he asked , peeling your shirt from over your head and tripping you back onto your couch. "what?" you fluttered your eyelashes coyly. a small smirk painted his lips , his hands coming to pin you down. "tell the truth , princess... i know you did it on purpose — the audio i mean." that sent shivers down your spine. you did. you did do it on purpose , however , you wouldn't admit that — your usually obedient demenour had melted away under your desires for your boyfriend's attention: so you shook your head , no. "no?" he echoed your response , as to ensure he understood.

again , you disagreed. "i don't know what your talking about." the man sucked his teeth , seething. "well then , baby... i guess i'll have to remind you." sunghoon dove into your cunt — yanking your panties to the side before hastily shoving one finger inside of your tight , already dripping hole. "fuck!" you weren't all that wet — precum lathered around your entrance , however, it wasn't much — causing the stretch of his finger to burn with a pleasurable sensation. "can you remember now?" he asked , trailing kisses down your thighs. "n-no , i don't know what you're asking , sunghoon..." another finger sent diving into your heated cunt , followed by another. "here , baby... have another , maybe it'll jog your memory..." he smiled against your skin — seeing as a silent moan ripped from your throat at the scissoring motion of his thick , dexterous fingers.

"how about now? hm?" sunghoon hummed , he could go all day — fingers stuffing your cunt to the brim as you whimpered and tears began to flood your eyes. "shit... no , i can't! ah! p-please let me —fuck , wait... let me cum..!" he tutted. your pulsating cunt was met with a hard strike — sunghoon slapping your pussy , which fluttered and clenched around his fingers. "fuck!" you squirmed underneath him , breathing heavy and sighing. "you know , baby... tell sunghoonie' what you did wrong?" tears poured down your face in fat streams.

"ah! i-i — fuck! i w-was touching myself a-and... ugh! please! i recorded it , sent it to you... i'm sorryyy..." there you were — sunghoon's good girl — his princess , tame and obedient — and that , deserved a reward.

guidelines and disclaimers | just had a mini panic attack lmao , but chapter one of the jake fic is out tmr ! yay ! please enjoy this sunghoon drabble babies 🫶🏽

[theemporium]

It had been a stupid, stupid mistake to make a bet with the boys.

Not because you were scared. And not because you thought you would lose (at the time, at least). But because when the marauders made a bet, they went the full nine yards to make sure they would win. They played dirty. They bent the rules enough to make you question their ethics. They were relentless no matter how big or small the bet was, and you should have known this would just be the same. 

You should have known better. 

You should have never agreed to their terms. 

Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve. 

And now, you were facing the consequences of making a stupidly innocent bet with the three boys you had formed a weird ‘friends with benefits’ dynamic with. 

“Look at her, Prongs,” a voice from behind you cooed, a little condescending as you felt fingertips trace down your spine. You pressed your face further into the pillow, a choked out sob leaving your lips as the simplest of touches had your body shaking in need. “That lil’ brat mouth of hers has finally shut up.”

“Maybe our princess has finally learnt her lesson,” James replied, and even if you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the smirk. The cocky, arrogant smirk that got you into this mess in the first place. “Huh, princess? Is that what’s happened? Finally got what you want and now you can’t talk?”

A pathetic whimper left your lips as you felt two hands spreading your cheeks, your ass in the air and exposing your soaking, needy cunt that was now on display for the boys. You could hear their chuckles of amusement, as their hands groped and squeezed your thighs that glistened with your leaking arousal, as they admired the mess they had made of you. 

“Please,” you choked out, the fabric of the pillow soaked in your tears and drool. “I-I take it back, I—”

“You regret it now, love?” Sirius mused, his fingers softly pushing the hair out of your face so he could see your big, glossy eyes staring up at him. He could have snorted at how quickly your attention was focused on his cock over his face. “But you were so confident before.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt James’ fingers brush against your swollen clit—a soft, feather-light touch that made your knees buckle. “Just one—”

“No.”

You buried your face into the pillow to muffle your noises of disappointment, only to feel fingers threading through your hair and yanking your head back. You whimpered, a sound mixed between pleasure and pain, as you stared up at the boy. 

Remus tsked softly, shaking his head like he was disappointed and something in your stomach dropped. His eyes glanced over your shaking figure, taking in the desperate plea in your teary eyes to the swollen lips and the mess between your legs. He looked so analytical, like you were nothing but another one of his assignments he was reading over. 

He glanced back at James, an expression that was unreadable to you crossing over his face as he nodded before he looked back down at you.

Your lips parted with a silent scream when you felt James slid inside you, fast and easy with how fucking wet you are, but the stretch still made your stomach twist in the best way possible. His large hands gripped your hips, pushing you further into the mattress until he was fully inside you, his hips snug against yours. 

“Do you like that?” Remus questioned.

You nodded, but he didn’t like that. 

He lightly slapped your face, his lips twisted downwards in a stern expression. “I said, do you like that?”

“Yes!” You blurted out, breathy and dazed. “Yesyesyesyes—”

And Remus watched. He watched as James fucked you dumb, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you helplessly moaned and whined. He watched as you gripped the sheets in tight fists, as your body arched as you approached the edge, as you babbled out incoherent mutters after hours of teasing and controlling and taking your pleasure away. 

And just before you tipped over the edge, he yanked your hair a little hard and called out, “stop.” 

The cry that left your lips was pitiful as James pulled out, another orgasm ruined to join the many others from that night. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your face hot with frustration and embarrassment as Remus smiled cockily down at you. 

“Aww, lil’ whore not getting what she wants?” He cooed mockingly, watching your eyes flutter shut as he tugged your hair again. “Should’ve thought about that before you acted like such a desperate brat.” 

You moaned his name, but it went practically ignored as he turned back to look at Sirius. 

“Make our little slut cry, Pads,” he said, the smirk on his face a little mean and vindictive. “I wanna see if we can make the pillow as wet as her needy cunt.”

.

[badgerbl00d]

taking an aphrodisiac and seeing who gives in first

☆ characters: ace, law, kidd

☆ up next: running into your ex ft. zoro

☆ summary: you take an aphrodisiac together and decide to throw in a competitive edge ; smutty, minimal plot oops

☆ a/n: this is a reupload- the original was deleted for some reason :(; requests are opened and being worked on! enjoy &lt;3

☆ 18+, mdni

ace

You waited until everyone was asleep to make your way over to Ace’s room. The two of you had decided it would probably be best to not say anything to anyone for a while, at least until you both had more time to get used to being together. 

It still sent shivers down your spine to think about the fact that you were actually dating.

You knocked on his door, using the knocking pattern he’d taught you exactly the way he’d insisted you did. 

“Ace, that’s dumb,” you’d insisted.

“No- I-I’m serious! What if I answer the door naked and Marco’s the one who knocked?”

“Why the hell would you be answering the door naked at all?”

“Well, you know ‘cause it’s, like, sexy.”

You stared at him and decided it would be best to just do a stupid secret knock. 

“...Okay what’s the knock.”

“Haha! Yes! Ok, so knock once, and then twice really fast- like da-dum, OK?”

“Alright,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Good. Then you’re gonna drumroll on the door for like three whole seconds. After that alternate between left and right twice and then-”

“Ace I’m just gonna knock three times, ok?”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You waited for a few seconds before Ace opened the door for you.

He pulled you in for a kiss, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“My knock would’ve been better.”

You giggled and followed him to his bed, pulling out the chocolate.

The two of you had been sent shopping earlier and came across a stall selling ‘enhanced’ chocolate. After some inquiry, you discovered it was an aphrodisiac, supposed to increase libido. 

You and Ace bought it, giggling like schoolgirls, and decided you’d try it tonight.

“So we just eat it and… bang?”

“Yes, Ace, we eat it and bang.”

“I meant like bang, boom, y’know?”

Well, I meant it like sex. “Here,” you broke the candy in half and handed it to him. 

“Hold on, hold on,” he sat down next to you and pulled you onto his lap, placing a flurry of kisses on your cheek before continuing, “Wanna make it more interesting?”

“Depends what you have in mind.”

“Let’s make a bet- See who lasts longer without giving in.”

You perked up at this.

“What will I get when I win?”

He laughed, “ ‘When?’ I think you mean if. Don’t get overconfident, cutie. How about… I will take you shopping for anything you want.”

“Deal.”

Ace grabbed half of the chocolate and popped it into his mouth, and you followed suit. 

He put on a kids' show you both liked in the background, it was a cute one about a boy and his stretchy dog. He said it reminded him of him and his brothers. The two of you got comfortable on the bed, you sat leaned up against a mountain of pillows, and Ace laid on you, head resting on your thighs.

You played with his hair while he rubbed your legs, as you slowly started to feel the effects of the drug. 

You could tell Ace had started to feel it as soon as he started squirming. 

When he turned over, his stomach against yours, and started to kiss your chest and tummy, you knew you’d won. 

“About that bet…” he said.

“Already?! You didn’t even try! Go sit over there.”

“I’m sorry you’re just so beautiful and soft and I’m so hard it’s starting to hurt.”

You giggled and pulled down the straps of your shirt to tease him. 

“You want this?”

He nodded eagerly. So cute. 

He reached behind you and unhooked your bra, tossing it on the floor.

He watched as your boobs bounced out, and with his hands around your waist, took one into his mouth. 

“A-ah, Ace,” you panted as his warm mouth enveloped your nipple. 

The hot, sticky wetness of his tongue felt so, so good. Your resolve immediately crumbled and you caved to his touch. 

He sucked slightly harder, his teeth gently closing around it. 

“Ace,” you whined, your hands finding their way up his back and into his hair. 

His hands were wrapped around his waist and he was laying on top of you, lined up so that his hardening dick was against your thigh. 

You felt a sudden burst of warmth emanate from his hands, sending a violently pleasurable shiver up your spine. He knew you loved when he involved his devil fruit abilities into your sexual encounters. 

You not-so-gently pulled on his hair as your back arched into his tongue that was persistently lapping at your sensitive nipple. 

He pulled away with a pop.

“M-more, Ace,” you breathed, “I want more.”

He sat up on his knees and clumsily fumbled with his pants, failing to untie the knot at the front. 

“Let me help,” you said, reaching up to untie it for him.

You made eye contact with him as you pulled down his sweats, slipping a finger into the band of his boxers.

He took in a shaky breath, his lips parted in awe. 

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You didn’t respond and instead pulled down his boxers. 

He was very long and pleasantly thick. 

You felt yourself getting even wetter at the memory of how he stretched you out last time.

Ace didn’t shave either, you figured he was far too impatient but it was something you absolutely loved.

You wrapped your lips around him, slowly working your way to the base, spit coating his dick. 

He placed a gentle hand in your hair, guiding you along with him as he laid back down on the bed. 

He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail and slowly bobbed your head up and down and up and down against his length- hissing as your tongue slid up his length and swirled around the tip with every movement. 

“F-feels so good,” he said.

You moaned against him, earning an involuntary shudder from your boyfriend.

You wrapped a hand around him, lightly squeezing his spit-soaked cock. 

“N-no, no, no, too much,” he whined, “Gonna cum!”

You started to move your head faster and were abruptly pulled off of him. 

“Let me fuck you first, princess, ‘m gonna cum if you keep going.”

You sighed but relented. 

“That’s the goal, baby,” you said, straddling his hips, and placing your hands on his chest.

“Then let me cum in you,” he begged. 

You lowered yourself down onto his length as he held himself in place for you, moaning as you felt that familiar stretch. 

“F-fuck,” you breathed, “You feel so good- So big.”

“Yeah? You like this position?”

He started to move his hips, fucking up into you. 

“Y-yes, Ace- Fuck! Oh, my god, d-don’t stop!”

Your breathless moans were more than enough to get him up to a delicious pace.

You pressed hot, wet kisses to his mouth, welcoming the abnormally warm sensation in your tummy. 

You knew your boyfriend ran hot and it was the most unexpectedly wonderful thing about having sex with him. 

You were sweating, covered with water droplets that were running down your body.

Ace’s hands dug into you, wet smacking sounds filling the room as you both got closer and closer. 

You cried out with every thrust, and Ace’s head was completely fogged with euphoria. 

Your stomach was twisting and tensing with pleasure, and you rapidly tapped Ace’s chest to let him know you were close. 

He brought an arm up to your throat, gently closing his hand around it. 

You grabbed onto his forearm and pulsed around him wildly as you finished all over him.

With a few more thrusts his hips started to twitch and you could tell by his erratic pace that he was close. 

“G-gonna cum, baby- Gonna cum!”

You tightened around Ace’s cock, and felt the sudden hot spurts of cum filling you up. 

When he was finished, he brushed your hair out of your face and gently tucked it behind your ears before lifting you up to pull out. 

His cum leaked out of you and all over his thighs. 

You laid down onto him, your sticky, sweaty bodies breathing in sync. 

He rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head. 

You started giggling and he joined in. 

You slowly sat up and pressed a kiss to Ace’s sweaty forehead before collapsing onto the bed next to him.

He sighed and grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Wanna know something?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I love you!”

“I love you more! Do you wanna know something?”

“Always,” he said. 

“You lose.”

kidd

“Kidd! Hurry up,” you called him into your bedroom. 

You were sitting in bed, the covers messily thrown around you.

He walked into the room, his towel wrapped loosely around his waist, just barely dried off. 

He still had his lipstick on, not having bothered to take it off, it was smudged messily around his lips.

Water beads were running down his chest and arms, and he smelled like lavender and shampoo. 

He loved watching you get ready for bed and had started timing his showers so that he could be in the bathroom at the same time as you.

Something about the routine was so domestic- it made him feel warm inside. He’d never admit it out loud but by the third time he had made it a point to have all his work done so he could shower with you, you’d put two and two together.

He was completely entranced watching you take off your makeup, brush your hair, put on lotion like you always did, and, of course, watching you change. He’d offer to ‘help’ though, in reality, he just wanted an excuse to have his hands on you.

He sat next to you on the bed, reaching over to grab a pair of gray sweatpants you’d set out for him. 

You sat on your knees, wearing an old torn-up t-shirt of his.

In your hands were two small pieces of chocolate, that you and Kidd had been eagerly waiting to eat. 

“I'm here, darlin’,” he said, getting up to put on his pants. 

“Won’t be needing those,” you giggled.

He turned to give you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Ready?”

You kissed him, gently biting his bottom lip.

“That eager, hm?”

Kidd reached for one of the chocolates in your hand, which you moved out of his reach.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, hold on,” you were greeted with an eye roll, “I wanna make a bet.”

Impatience had been starting to show itself on his face until the word ‘bet’ fell from your lips. 

His competitiveness outweighed his short attention span. 

“What kind of bet, love?”

A devilish smile spread on your face, easily Kidd’s favorite of your many expressions, “I think you’re going to be so pathetically desperate that you’ll give in before I even feel it.”

He laughed, and your stomach twisted in anticipation at the way he looked at you after.

“Deal, baby, but what am I gonna get when I win?”

“Whatever you want.”

You blinked up at him, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants. 

His confidence momentarily faltered, before he snatched a chocolate out of your hand and ate it as he made his way out of the room toward his office. 

“I’ll be in there, baby. Working.”

You lay down on your side of the bed and waved him off, grabbing your book from your nightstand. 

You knew five minutes in that you were destined for failure. You tried to focus on the book but the lines were blurring into one another and all you could think of was how Kidd’s hands felt when they were around your throat, or smacking your ass, or pulling you closer into him by your waist. 

After an excruciating twenty minutes of resisting the pooling wetness in between your thighs, you swallowed your pride and made your way to Kidd’s office.

You lightly knocked before walking in, blushing from embarrassment. 

Kidd sat in his office chair, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, beckoning you toward him with a few pats to his lap. 

If you weren’t so achingly desperate to feel that hand grabbing and squeezing you, you would’ve given him a piece of your mind for calling you to him like a dog. 

Yet, like a dog, you obeyed and made your way toward him tail tucked between your legs.

You were dressed in nothing but the t-shirts and a pair of black and white polka dot panties. 

He pulled you onto his lap once you were close enough and you straddled him, sinking your lips eagerly into his, his lipstick smudging across both of your faces.

He loved seeing you like that- he took a guilty pleasure in seeing you marked up, be it by his lipstick or hickeys he wanted to see you completely covered. 

Pulling away from the kiss to look at your lover, you suddenly became very aware of his hardening erection that was pushed snugly against your pussy.

It dawned on you now that had you stuck it out even just a few more minutes you probably would’ve won the bet. But that was the last thing on your mind and all you could think of now was the feeling of familiar hardness against your lower half.

A breath caught in your throat and your own arousal started to soak through your panties.

You could feel your heartbeat pulsing in your clit, the throbbing sensation starting to overwhelm you.

You pawed at his chest, desperate for some kind of give, and slowly started circling your hips against him.

“You like feeling my dick against ya? Hm?”

He patted your cheek lightly when you didn’t answer and you nodded. 

“You want more?”

You nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

He slapped your face- a little harder this time.

“I want to hear you say it,” he reminded you, holding your face in one hand, your cheeks squished together. 

“Y-yesh, captain, want more,” you moaned, picking up the pace of your grinding against his lap. 

“Sit up for me baby,” he said.

You did, raising your ass from his thighs. 

He pushed your panties to the side and ran a cold, metal finger up your slit, gathering your slick arousal onto it. 

“Ah! Please, Kidd, please. I’ve already lost, so don’t tease!”

He laughed at your desperation, “Quit whinin’ sweetheart, gimme a sec.”

He pulled the waistline of his sweatpants down and his cock sprang up, lying flat against his abdomen. 

The tip was flushed pink and dribbling pre-cum. 

Tentatively, you wrapped your small hand around the base and lightly pumped up and down. 

Kidd made no complaints so you moved your hand with more vigor. 

Your thumb swiped at the leaking slit on his head and used the arousal to pump him faster, earning heavenly moans to fall on your ears.

“Just like that, Y/n.”

You bit your bottom lip and bent down slightly to start pressing wet kisses to his throat as you pleased him.  

You worked your way up to his jaw, and pulled away to look up at him. 

He was in complete euphoria, his head leaning back against the chair, neck completely exposed to you.

You watched as his chest rose and fell, in sync with every up and down motion of your hand. 

You slowly started to get yourself down from his lap- and his head shot up.

“Oi, oi, where’re ya goin’?”

“Shh, baby, just let me make you feel good.”

You could tell he didn’t like this at all, he was always in control.

He told you when to cum, where to lick, what to do, and this was driving him insane.

But the pleasure coursing through his body left his brain feeling too good to question anything.

You knelt down on the floor in front of him and guided his hand to your hair, which he gladly held up. 

“I see,” he mused, a smile spreading on his face, “In that case, go ahead, darlin’.”

You wrapped both hands around the base of his extraordinarily thick cock, bringing the tip towards your already extended tongue.

Your hands worked in unison with your mouth, pumping him while you licked up and down his head.

When he was sufficiently worked up you enclosed your mouth over the smallest amount possible, gathering spit in your mouth.

It dribbled down the underside of his cock, providing you with the necessary lubrication to take him down your throat.

You started slow- Kidd was big and you knew you had to warm up before taking all of him. 

His grip on your hair tightened as your tongue licked the underside of his shaft, and your lips wrapped around the rest of him.

His breathing was getting faster and curses were spilling out of his throat.

You finally took him to the base, your nose getting buried in his pubes.

You gagged and your eyes started to water, but Kidd held your head in place.  

“F-fuck, shh, shh, breathe baby, breathe,” Kidd shuddered out, “Just like that, oh, good girl.”

Tears started falling from your eyes as your Captain sat back up, and started to slowly pump himself in and out of your mouth. 

You could tell by the twitching and tensing of his dick that he was getting close, and your own arousal was starting to drip down your legs. 

You sharply inhaled with every thrust he gave, holding onto his thighs to try and support yourself. 

“So good f’me,” he panted, “Gonna cum soon.”

You moaned against him as he fucked your mouth, gently cupping his balls in one hand. 

“Fuck!”

With no warning you found yourself swallowing hot spurts of cum. 

“MM! Mmf mm mmm-” KIDD! Don’t do that-

He interrupted you with a loud laugh, “Sorry darlin’ I couldn’t help it.”

You swallowed and Kidd lifted you back up onto his lap, wrapping strong arms back around your waist. 

You pulled aside your panties, letting your flooding arousal pour onto him.

You sat up on your knees, letting him rub his length up and down your slit, before slipping the head in.

You winced as you lowered your hips down, taking him fully. 

He pushed up into you once he had bottomed out, earning a generous moan from you- music to his ears. 

His hands tightened around your waist as he started to bounce you up and down, you were so wet that every slight movement was audible and filled the room with the sticky, wet sounds of you sucking him in.

He slid in and out of you so easily, and you were so tender that it wasn’t long until you were close.

With every kiss of his tip against your g-spot the coil in your stomach tightened, a strong, delicious tension pressed against the spot right beneath your tummy. 

The steady smack, smack, smack that had started to fill the room clouded your thinking and you were completely rag-dolled by Kidd who was bouncing you at a relentless pace. 

In a flash of white, hot pleasure you came- hard. Your fingernails dug into your boyfriend’s back, a few even breaking skin. Your thighs pressed against each other and you fell forward, leaning your full body weight against him. 

The both of you sat in silence for a moment, the sound of your breathing filling the room. 

Slowly, you sat up pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“I win.”

Kidd’s brows furrowed, “No, ya fuckin’ don’t. You came in here begging for-”

“So? I walked in and you were already hard, so I won.”

“That’s definitely not how this works, love. You walked in wetter than water-”

“HA! I did not,” you lied, “I wasn’t even wet until I sat on your lap. You’re such a sore loser-”

Kidd laughed, and pressed kisses all over your face, “You’re a terrible liar, love.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fine. What do you want as a prize?”

Kidd pulled you closer to him, your breath getting gently pushed out as your chest pressed against his. 

“I want more.”

law

You flipped through the pages of a special Valentine’s Day magazine, dog-earing the pages of clothing shops and restaurants you wanted to visit with your boyfriend when he had time. 

He was sitting at his desk, just a few feet away from you organizing medical files and equipment into his drawers. 

His music was playing in the background, out of a small speaker you got him for his twenty-fifth birthday. 

A smooth saxophone melody danced over a relaxing, steady drum beat. 

He loved jazz.

Helps me concentrate, he’d said. 

It had grown on you after a year of listening to it every night and there were few things you found yourself enjoying more than these late nights with your boyfriend, each of you doing your own thing while still enjoying the other’s company. 

You were the cutest, sweetest thing in the world to Law, and on nights like these, he liked watching you when you thought he was completely absorbed in his work.

He watched as you’d read, play a video game, or map out your next course. 

Laying on your stomach, you swished your feet in the air behind you, gently rocking them to and fro- a sign Law knew far too well.

“Bored, baby?”

You stilled your feet, feeling guilty that he noticed.

“A little,” you admitted, “And this magazine is making me sad.”

He quirked an eyebrow, asking for elaboration.

“It’s full of cute romantic stuff to do, but who knows if we’ll even get a chance. What with being outlaws and all.”

He smiled and put away the rest of the mess in front of him before sitting on the bed next to you.

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, and laid your head down against his shoulder. 

“If you want to go to any of these places, you just let me know and we’ll go. Any marines or bounty hunters that try to intervene will be sorry.”

You giggled, “Should we plan out our Valentine’s Day then?”

He nodded.

“But first, I have something for you.”

You sat up at this, looking up at him with your big doe eyes.

He pulled out a small piece of chocolate from his pocket. 

“Oh! Thank you! Is it dark chocolate ‘cause I don’t like the other kinds-”

You reached for it, but Law pulled back before you could grab it.

“Tsk, tsk- Hold on, my love. 

We’re going to split it.”

You found it somewhat odd that you’d split such a small piece of chocolate and furrowed your brows, earning a laugh from your boyfriend who was unwrapping the candy.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.”

Oh! Your eyes widened, and eagerness pooled into them.

He froze for a second, “Shit- wait! Should I have waited until Valentine’s Day? This would’ve been a good surprise, dammit.”

You laughed out loud at his sudden change in demeanor and quickly reassured him that it was perfectly fine.

“Good to have a test round anyway, no?”

He kissed your forehead and handed you a piece. 

As you ate he continued, “To make it a little more interesting, you’re gonna go to the library and I’ll go to the operation room. Whoever gives in first loses.”

“What constitutes giving in?”

“Asking for sex.”

You stood up, stretching your body out, fingertips extending toward the roof. 

Walking out you stood at the doorway, turning to look back at your lover.

“You’re gonna lose.”

“I am? Oh, but what if I do this,” he said before he suddenly stood up and walked toward you, “Please, Y/n.”

Your panties flooded upon hearing these words, so sickly sweet and needy, and you pressed your thighs together.

Law slowly knelt on the floor in front of you, placing a large hand on the outside of each of your thighs.

He sank lower before you and pressed soft kisses up your legs, stopping at your knees.

Your heartbeat quickened and you could hear your breathing, now made up entirely of fast inhales and exhales like your lungs were trying to catch up with the frenzied, eager mess between your thighs. 

A hand made its way between your knees and Law looked up to you, as though asking for permission to part them. 

Your lips were parted and glossy, you looked so sweet and cute that he could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, the denim tightening around it. 

This kind of eagerness, this lust that filled him had been completely unknown to him before meeting you. 

He pushed your legs apart and his tongue attached to your left thigh, licking a long, wet stripe up it, stopping right before your pussy.

It took immense willpower to not give in right then and there, to not sink his tongue and lips into your wet, dripping heat. To stop himself from indulging in that feeling of the fat of your pussy smothering his face.

But he instead turned to your right thigh, licking and biting his way up it, marking your legs with love marks. Littered hues of dark browns and purples mixed with vibrant reds and pinks covered your thighs. 

Your bottom lip trembled as you ignored every sensation traveling in and on your body. Your nerves were aching, screaming for you to ask Law to touch you. Beg him, if you had to.

But you resisted- blinking back the tears that pooled on your lower lash line in an attempt to refocus. 

The surgeon took note of your resolve and decided to make it crumble.

He lifted your shirt up and over your head and unhooked your bra.

He watched, with an unnerving intensity as your tits jiggled around and softly pinched at your nipples.

Your cheeks were hot to the touch and goosebumps flooded your skin. 

“A-ah-,” you moaned as he started to lick and suck your nipples, getting rougher and rougher. He held your breasts in his hands and pushed them against each other, sloppily licking over any and everything he could reach with his tongue. 

You openly moaned now, completely overcome by the euphoric sensation you were feeling.

His tongue was soft and warm and wet and sticky and felt so, so good over your aching breasts that had been eager for his touch. 

“L-law, please- Oh, my god, yes! Yes,” you whined and writhed under his touch.

He pulled away with a pop, “You like it that much, bunny?”

You fervently nodded and your hands found their way onto his head, tangling themselves in his dark black hair. 

“C’mere, baby,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

You snaked your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, savoring how he tasted. 

Pressing a hand against your chest, he laid you down on the couch and grabbed your legs placing them over his shoulders.

Your stomach tensed up, and you could feel your desperate pussy start to twitch. 

He lowered himself so he was level with your soaked panties and placed a kiss right on top of your clothed clit, earning a series of pathetic whines from you. 

You reintroduced your hands to his hair, gently pulling and tugging him toward your needy heat. 

“This is what you want?” 

He ran a long finger up and down your slit.

“Yes! Please, please Law. E-eat me out, ‘m so so wet for you,” you begged.

He pushed your panties to the side, and with a pointed tongue, licked up and down your slit- never quite touching your clit. He gathered the slick pouring out of your hole on his tongue and spit it back onto your pussy.

The teasing continued as he sucked and softly bit your lips, licking everywhere but the aching bundle of nerves that you could feel throbbing.

“Don’t tease!” you cried, desperate for him to give you what you wanted. 

 He laughed and with torturous slowness, started to lick your pulsing bud.

It was euphoric- waves of hot, warm pleasure flooded your body as you sunk your nails into the couch cushions, moans spilling from your lips.

He knew exactly what he was doing, where you liked him to apply more pressure, and where to ease off. 

He had an iron grip on your thighs, dimpling the flesh where his fingers held onto you.

Your moans got less consistent and more strained as you got closer.

“Just like that, baby,” you panted, “Gonna cum!”

As he heard this, he pulled you even closer toward his mouth and your back slid down the wall.

His grip tightened on your thighs and would have been painful if not for how sweetly he was eating you out. 

The obscene wet sounds of licking and slurping and sucking echoed off the walls of his room and you felt your core tightening as you got closer, your hips bucking up into Law’s face out of desperation. 

In a split second, the winding cord snapped and you gasped, digging your hands into the tangled mess that was Law’s hair. 

He slowly pulled his face away from your pussy completely soaked.

He had a drunk look in his eyes and you could already feel yourself wanting more.

Law picked you up, palming your ass, and carried you back to his bed. 

The clock read 6:34 a.m. when the two of you finally went to shower. 

Law did most of the work for you, as you were about ready to pass out. 

He pressed soft kisses on your soapy shoulders and dried you off when you were done. 

He went and grabbed your favorite pajamas for you and tucked you into bed with a soft kiss. 

“And by the way, my love.” 

You turned to look at him, lips still puffy from his assault on them. 

Law took a moment to appreciate the way your nipples poked through the thin silk of your nightgown, and how gently your chest rose and fell as you started to fall asleep. 

He sat next to where you lay on the bed, running a hand through your hair and rubbing circles on your back.

You turned up to look at him, beckoning for him to kiss you.

He bent down, your lips practically touching. 

As a sly smile spread over your face you told him, 

“Technically speaking, I win.”

[navybrat817]

Focus

Pairing: Motocross!Steve Rogers x Motocross!Female Reader Summary: You have a crush on Steve Rogers, but you don't think you're his type. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Crush, longing, slight insecurities, swearing, nicknames, Curtis is a good friend, Motocross!Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Finally an intro for Champ and Daisy in our Dialed In AU! Took me how long, @yenzys-lucky-charm ? Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

A 450 rider like Bucky with a lot of wins under his belt, Natasha was serious when she said Steve was one of the best riders in his class.

It was one of the reasons people called him “Champ”, a nickname he wasn’t overly fond of since some of the guys liked to tease him after races where he didn’t place first. It also gave him flashbacks of when he was younger and smaller, virtually ignored or told he wouldn’t excel in anything physically.

With a lot of heart and a late growth spurt, he proved them wrong.

Bucky said once that his nickname should be “Adonis” because of his now statuesque looks and the pit lizards fawning over him or “Golden Boy” because of his success and admiration.

Steve never let any of that get to his head and refused to let the pit lizards distract him. He worked hard to get where he was and continued to give it his all on and off the track every single time.

His determination was one of the many reasons you found yourself drawn to him. He was the kind of rider and person many aspired to be.

Your crush only grew the day you two actually met.

A rider yourself, you earned the nickname “Daisy” thanks to the flowers on your helmet and general sweet demeanor.

The helmet was the very thing Steve complimented you on when he walked by you at your first pro race.

You hadn’t meant to stare when he walked by, but his reputation preceeds him. Clad in red, white, and blue like a patriotic God, his blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes looked like the sky on a cloudless day.

The sheer size of him almost made you whimper when he got closer. How a man was able to walk with such confidence and dominance yet still had an air about that said he was humble was a gift.

He even stopped to speak to a few kids who were eager to meet him and you couldn’t stop smiling when one little boy wrapped his arms around his legs in a tight hug.

Who wouldn’t fall for him?

You were certain you still had a dopey smile on your face when he looked your way.

“Beautiful.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine when you realized he was speaking to you, which you tried to blame on pre-race jitters. “Your helmet. It’s beautiful,” he said when you didn’t reply.

You deflated slightly because of course he didn’t think you were beautiful. You were just a rider and not like the girls who flocked to him.

“Oh, thanks,” you croaked, clearing your throat immediately to try and save face. “I like daisies,” you added, mentally kicking yourself for stating the obvious. Why else would they be on your helmet?

The lopsided grin he gave you brought your smile back to your face. “You’re Daisy. Heard good things about you.”

Biting your lip and glancing away briefly, you didn’t catch his gaze following the movement. “You have?” You asked, slightly surprised that your name made the rounds.

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the track. “And I’m eager to see what you do out there.”

Your stomach did a somersault, but you held your head high. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“I doubt you could disappoint anyone,” he quietly spoke, looking over his shoulder when Bucky called out to him. “Gotta go. Good luck out there, Daisy.”

“Thanks, Champ,” you said, shifting back and forth on your feet when he stood up straight and flexed his gloved fingers. Maybe you shouldn’t have used his nickname. “I mean, Steve.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but you felt better when he gave you one more lopsided smile. “Champ sounds nice coming from you,” he said before he walked away.

You tried not to swoon or check out his ass when he went on his way, but Curtis clocked you immediately.

“You might wanna wipe that drool off your chin before your race,” he said, nudging you with his shoulder when you glanced at the ground. “Nervous? Don't be. You’re gonna kick ass out there.”

“Not nervous,” you said, biting your lip again. “He said he heard about me.”

“Yeah. Riders talk, you know that. And the guys saw you practice, so they know you have skills,” he said, sighing when you lifted your head and longingly stared after Steve. “Look, don’t let him distract you.”

“I’m not letting him distract me,” you argued, moving your helmet between your hands. “It’s just nice to get a compliment from such a skilled rider,” you said, especially since a lot of guys had a tendency to ignore you once they knew you loved to race.

Curtis narrowed his eyes. “I’m a skilled rider and I compliment you. I don’t see you walking around with hearts in your eyes and having a little crush on me.”

Your cheeks flamed before you hit his arm. “More like you bust my nonexistent balls. That’s not the same thing,” you said.

He didn’t move an inch when you hit him, the wall of muscle that he was. “Perk of being my friend,” he deadpanned, looking in the direction that Steve went, too. “I’m not one for gossip, but Champ is single.”

You put your helmet on so your friend couldn’t see your face. “Good to know, but I doubt I’m his type,” you said.

Because why would he like you?

“Rogers is a fucking idiot if he doesn’t want a girl like you,” he said sincerely before he hit your helmet with the palm of his hand, the familiar grumpy stare back on his face. “But enough of that shit. Get out there and win your fucking race.”

Which you did.

Steve's heart skipped a beat when you removed your helmet and smiled.

Because the truth was, you were exactly his type.

And he’d sweep you off your feet if you let him.

They're sweet, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[oneforthemunny]

build me up, buttercup |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!nepo baby!reader|

prompt: you and eddie are planning a baby shower to welcome in your first baby, persephone. or how the girl's flower themes are born.

a teeny tiny blurb that i'm excited to share. follows the lore than each of the girls have their own flowers, and this is how persephone's came to be <3 hope you enjoy!

contains: pure fluff. honestly just cutesy shit. language. pregnant!reader.

"I just want something bright." You hum, swaying gently to soothe your sore, aching joints. Your ring dazzled in the bright light pouring in from the open windows, smoothing over the swell of your stomach.

"Is there a specific color, Mrs. Munson?" The timid event planner asked, spreading out swatches of bright yellows, powdery blues, pastel pinks. "If we start with a color, maybe that would help narrow down the options?"

"I don't know." You frowned, a swell of frustrated tears bubbling to life in your chest. You didn't know, and you hated that you didn't know. It was your baby shower, you wanted it to be perfect.

Eddie's spine straightened, eyes cutting to you carefully. He sensed the tears, the irritation of feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, all threatening to come out the only way they knew how to. He'd been on the receiving end of too many of those fits. His hand found your thigh, squeezing it gently, thumb rubbing soft circles over your soft flesh, a desperate attempt to soothe.

"You're wanting flowers, right? That's the main theme." Your assistant, Natasha, a complete saint in disguise. With pregnancy brain and hormones, you were sure you'd never make it without her. "Do you have options for a floral theme?"

"Yes," The planner squeaked, thumbing through her briefcase of photos, swatches, notes.

Eddie felt you tense, your hand rubbing over your stomach in slow circles, huffing in defeat. "Hey, could you give us a second, Nat?" Eddie hummed. "Just give us one sec to look and kinda talk."

"Of course. Let's take a little break. I'll go get some tea." Natasha gave you both a small smile, padding to the kitchen the event planner following closely behind.

Your sigh, heavy and huffy, echoed off the walls. It made Eddie cringe gently, pulling the flower pictures closer to the two of you. "What about this one? Nice and pink for ya." Eddie held the small sample photo up to you, filled with sweet peas and hydrangeas, obnoxiously pink.

"Yeah," You muttered, lips still puffed in a pout. "I don't even know if I want pink anymore."

"Blue?" Eddie grinned lightly. "Trick everyone into thinking it's a boy incase there's a leak." He cringed when your breath hitched, eyes wide in horror.

"I'm kidding, baby." Eddie added quickly. "No one's gonna leak. We're keeping it intimate."

"Yeah, right." You sighed. "My mom and dad will bring all these people I barely even know."

"And I'll tell them to leave." Eddie's chest puffed, spine straightening. "I'm serious. They're not on the list, they can fuck off, alright? Goes for Victor and Tana too. Not gonna let them upset you."

The small smile you gave him felt like a standing ovation, a victorious win after a grueling, hard day. Filled his chest with warmth, hand squeezing yours lightly.

"If there's even a shower to kick them out of." Your smile fell just as quickly as it came, shoulders slumping with them. "Can't even pick a theme."

"We'll get it. C'mon," Eddie's calloused fingertips tickled your jaw, lifting your gaze to his. "Don't be like that, sweetheart."

"I can be like that if I want to." Your voice teetered on the edge of a whine, the hinting of a cry. "I can't even make a decision about a baby shower theme. How am I going to make a decision about a baby?"

"Stop that." Eddie shook his head, voice dropping to a soft coo. "Two totally different things, baby. Not even comparable." It was rational, firm but soothed your bundles of nerves. You both had your own worries, fears about parenthood- fear of the unknown that was creeping closer and closer.

"Here," Eddie stood, chains hanging from his jeans jingling with every heavy step towards the shelves on either side of the television, lined with books.

Eddie's fingers danced over the spines, until he found the book. Still new, no cracks in the spine or bent pages, a gift from Farrah when you told her the baby's name. "I saw it at this bookstore in Amsterdam. I had to get it." She'd squealed, giving you the book with a title that your baby shared- Persephone.

Eddie had been more elated than you, reading it front to back more than once. Reading it to you at night, eyes lighting when he'd read something interesting.

"I think I saw somethin' in here." Eddie sank back down beside you on the couch. "Just an idea."

You curled into him, knees tucked under you, head on the soft, worn material of his t-shirt. His cologne, a faint smoky smell of a cigarette- you could feel your body relaxing, intoxicatingly calm.

Calloused fingertips thumbed through the pages until he found the page he was looking for, lips parting in a soft, triumphant hum. "Look," Eddie tilted the page towards you, fingertip tracing the small etching of a flower. "Says there's some history behind this flower and Persephone."

You titled your head, eyes scanning over the text.

"In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Earth Goddess Gaia produced the yellow petaled Narcissus specifically to enchant Persephone. Now, this early blooming flower is seen as the harbinger of Spring, announcing Persephone's ascent to the surface."

"Interestingly, for all it's association with rebirth and new life with Spring, the bulb is highly toxic?" You frowned, head tilting up towards Eddie.

His lips curled in a wide, excited grin, eyes shining with gleaming pride. "That's fucking cool, isn't it?" Eddie beamed.

Heat blossomed in your chest, dissolving the feeling of frustration and fear, and blooming with something lighter. Soothing and happy, spreading through your chest all the way to your cheeks.

"That is pretty cool." You nodded, scanning the table for a yellow swatch. "We could do like a yellow and white kinda theme, right? That would be neutral in case it did get leaked."

Eddie gave a small eye roll. "It won't get leaked." He muttered, setting the book to the side. "But, yeah, neutral but still bright."

"Make the narcissus the main flower. Maybe add baby's breath and something else..." You muttered, pulling the swatches in front of you. Eddie's chest boasted, watching your small frown on your features, determined instead of frustrated now.

"Do they keep?" You turned to Eddie. "Like, they won't wilt or be gross, right?"

"Buttercups? Nah, they'll keep." Eddie shook his head gently. "Used to pick them for my mom all the time when I was little. She'd keep 'em in a vase and some water, and they'd stay forever."

Your heart swelled, a dull ache behind his words. Even now, married and expecting a baby, Eddie rarely spoke about his mother. Every small detail he'd share, you'd guard protectively in your thoughts, wanting to remember every detail you could.

"Ok," You nodded, a small sigh of relief. "Let's do that then."

You groaned, pushing off the back of the couch, Eddie's hands quickly finding your waist to help you stand. "Will you go get them? I have to pee, and I'll be right back."

Weeks later, Eddie was sure he'd never seen so many shades of yellow- so many flowers in his life. Your family's Malibu home transformed to a bright, floral baby shower of your dreams. Buttercups at every arrangement, starred prominently in bustles of baby's breath and tiny white daisies. All the guests even in various shades of yellow, shining brightly under the California sun.

Eddie managed to sneak a bouquet after the party, when you'd gone to lay down and the staff was cleaning up. He'd handed it to Natasha, sent it with her to get pressed and framed, until it found it's new home in the nursery.

[luvvyouforever]

hc: acotar boys + s/o with illyrian wings

↳ including rhysand, cassian, azriel, lucien, and tamlin.

↳ some mentions of nsfw content but majority sfw, does not go into detail.

a/n: i have not read the entirety of the series nor have i wrote for acotar before. but this was stuck in my mind and i just had to see it through. enjoy, dears ❀

rhysand:

-adores taking leisurely flights with you across the night court lands, velaris, you name it and you're going. on days where you both need to get away and find some peace, you would fly away to some peak of a mountain or to a wide open field of flowers. smiles at you the whole time you glide easily next to him.

-definitely compares wing spans all the time. "no, i swear mine are bigger! look!" as he's straining and stretching the tips of them out to elongate his wingspan. you laugh and play along because you know that yours are without a doubt bigger but you'll let him win this time.

-his already large bed expands when you sleep in it together, ensuring that your wings rest on the sheets comfortably. he knows how annoying it is to tuck them in tightly or let them droop off the ends.

-if you've had a bad day, he'll ask for your permission before massaging the spots of skin surrounding your wings before gently running his hands along them, sending shivers down your spine. sometimes this will lead to more as his apt hands cause you to whimper but if it has been a particularly rough day, he is content to give you physical comfort and nothing more.

-feels incredibly proud to have you. while he hates entering the court of nightmares and putting on his persona, he secretly loves walking in to the city with you as his partner, wings fiercely on display.

-and just for some small self-indulgence, i think rhys loves wing play. when the two of you are close in bed, passionate and sweaty, he loves running his hands along your wings and he flares his out so you can do the same to him. he just can't help groaning at your reaction. enough said (i am so perfectly normal about this)

cassian:

-races with you in the air. some days he is just bounding with energy and adrenaline and nothing helps him more than leaping off of the balcony of your townhouse and soaring high in the air, dodging one another, doing tricks, etc. while rhys loves peaceful flights with you, cassian is the exact opposite.

-if you ever feel insecure about your wings, he'll encourage you to be confident about them and let them out. he may notice that a party, you get insecure about taking up so much space and you try to tuck your wings in as close as possible, placing yourself in corners. he'll come to your side, spread his wings out and tap your back to tell you to do the same. "don't feel bad about them, sweets. you look glorious."

-your sleep habits are definitely...interesting. two people in one bed with enormous wings sprouting from the backs? yeah, it's a little hard to maneuver. but you manage and usually, in the morning, you end up sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled, hair in faces, pillows off the bed, but rested and comfortable nonetheless.

-cassian loves being a tease and throughout the day, anytime he sees you, he'll sneak on you and run a finger down the most sensitive part of your wings, causing reactions that make those around you just slightly uncomfortable. he laughs and giggles and you don't stay mad at him for long.

-he would find it really attractive if your wings were bigger than his or if you could take him down in a fight. he's spent his life being a fearsome warrior, stronger than everyone, and if his partner can spread their wings and tackle him to the ground, he'll be so excited.

-you know that scene in good omens where aziraphale covers crowley's head with his wing? yeah, cassian does that. if you're walking anywhere and it starts raining, snowing, etc. he will gladly place his wing over top of your head to keep you from getting wet. you appreciate it more than anything.

azriel:

-i like to headcanon azriel as being a little fancy and bougie. he definitely has piles of oils, lotions, and skin care products for his wings that he will share with you. he likes keeping them shiny, moisturized, and clean. more often than not, he'll have you sit down in the bathroom while he does a mini skincare routine for your wings alone. you love it and look forward to it every night.

-azriel's wings are canonically the largest of the bat boys and i think he feels a secret sense of pride about this. no matter how good of a warrior cassian is or how good of a leader rhysand is, he holds that over them and this reflects in your relationship. he doesn't feel threatened by them, both because he trusts them and because he knows your affinity for his wings.

-oh my god...his shadows dance all over your wings when you're together. they tickle and give you goosebumps along every part of your body. azriel pretends to rein them in but he loves seeing you giggle at the feeling and sometimes sends his shadows out to run along your wings when you need to cheer up.

-if anyone ever hurt your wings or damaged them in any way, he'd see red and nothing else. he knows how much wings matter to an illyrian and if you come home from a battle with your wings bleeding, ripped, or scarred, he'd immediately find them and make them wish they didn't do such a thing to you.

-when crowds and people and senses become too much for either of you, you'll slip off to some secluded place, usually your home, and wrap each other in your wings, enveloping you in darkness and quiet. it's a great remedy for headaches or overstimulation. in general, i think azriel hugs with his wings. his arms will be wrapped tight around your body and his wings will encase you as much as they can.

-some more self indulgence here...i think azriel isn't as fond of his wings being used in the bedroom but as for yours...shew. you know how his shadows like to play with your wings? he revels in your sounds, gasps, and surprise at the feeling of your most sensitive spot being touched so delicately.

lucien:

-lucien has always been fascinated with illyrian wings. i think he'd ask you so many questions about them, about how they feel, how it feels to fly, etc. he'd very politely ask for your permission before grazing them with his hands, taking in the beauty of them.

-he always wanted to fly like the illyrian warriors he was familiar with but he never asked you out of embarrassment. the first time he flew with you was out of pure need as you escaped from some kind of danger together. he couldn't get away fast enough so without thinking, you picked him up and soared into the sky with him. after that moment, he looks for any chance to fly with you.

-lucien is a fast learner when it comes to learning how to care for your wings. he picks up on the spots that ache the most and pays special attention to those after long days. he speaks to cassian and azriel about caring for them, and he takes their advice to heart, buying whatever he needs.

-sometimes, he feels insecure and wonders if you'd prefer to be with someone who can match your skill set and keep up with you better. you shut down those thoughts as soon as they come up and make some joke that illyrians are a cocky breed and that you'd much prefer to be with him. you even offer to train him in some illyrian fighting techniques which he quickly takes you up on.

-if someone stares at your wings while you're at some kind of spring court high society function, he'd shoot them an evil glare which is particularly intimidating. he reassures you that there is no need to hide the beauty of your wings and that he'd deal with anyone who says something bad about them.

-lucien can't help but blush when you casually use your wings to help him throughout the day. if he shivers at a draft blowing through open windows, your wing will find a spot behind him to block the cool air. you will block the bright sun when you're walking together, barely caring about the intense warmth. if you're fighting together, your wing blocks hits and acts as a barrier between him and an enemy. when he questions himself, he thinks about those small moments that show your love and smiles.

tamlin:

-i think that tam can feel a little threatened sometimes by your wings and skills as a warrior. he places a lot of importance in his position as a protector and it takes him some time to get used to having a partner that can defend themselves. once he does, though, you two are practically an unstoppable force.

-he tries to act very nonchalant about your wings out of fear of offending you by staring at them or touching them. the first time you catch him looking at them in the sunlight, you smile and tell him that you'd never be offended by him admiring them. after that, he's constantly raking his eyes along your wingspan, creating poetic lines in his head about how the stars reflect on the silky black skin.

-tam is possessive by nature and if he sees someone complimenting them or, gods forbid, touch them, he couldn't hold back the claws emerging. he knows very well that you will stand your ground but nobody touches his partner like that and he will let them know very quickly.

-he will never really admit it but he loves seeing you in the light, pastel colors of the spring court, especially when they contrast so heavily with the dark wings on your back. he thinks one of his favorite views is you laid out in the rose garden, soaking in the sunshine with your wings laid out entirely on the ground. his love for you swells and he wishes he had a camera to keep the view preserved forever.

-he loves to spoil you with the best wing care you've ever seen. i'm talking expensive oil infused with gold that creates the most beautiful sparkle along the wings. i'm talking handmade soap sourced from velaris that smells divine which he uses while you take a bath together. he thrives when he gets to spoil you like this.

-his first calanmai after you became partners is an entire story in itself. even while ferociously charged with power, he asks for your permission to touch your wings while in the heat of things. his delicate hands are so different from the rest of the way he's taking you and he draws sounds from you that bounce off the cave walls and echo for likely miles.

i hope you enjoy this! i really like writing headcanons so if you have any requests, please let me know! <3

[fufuheheii]

Cyno’s Ultimate Guide to Wooing You (tips from Tighnari)

Edit: Cyno x female!reader

You and Cyno have been friends for a very long time.

That’s why the boy never expected that he would develop feelings out of nowhere, especially not right when you smash an  Ajilenakh nut with his pole arm in anger.

He could have sworn his heart went doki doki along with the broken nut.

“You have got to be kidding me,” was all Tighnari could say when Cyno approached him on the very same day with the biggest blush ever.

“She was glowing Tighnari,” Cyno furrowed his eyebrows as he looked off into the distance. ��The Love Archon have placed a curse on me-“ “there is no love archon you lummox.”

After a long ass debate and Cyno listing down pros and cons of liking you, the fennec boy decided this topic went on long enough and decided to just throw some suggestions.

“Why not just ask her out on a date? Woo her with something. If I recall, Y/N said she liked charcoal cake.”

And that’s how The Guide to Wooing You (Ft. Tighnari) book was created.

First Operation: date

Now, you and Cyno have been friends for a very long time, meaning you’ve done much activities together.

When Cyno asked you out, you took it as an average hangout and the day turned into a whole TCG war. 

Cyno has no idea how you guys ended up in Port Ormos, both of your decks out with his strongest cards in his hand. People surround you two, all in awe at the amazing strategic display in front of them. No, to say he is confused is an understatement.

“Wait Y/N-“ “No I’m not falling for that again Cyno.” “No, we weren't supposed to be playing.” “Wow I can’t believe you just threw that card out, how am I supposed to win that?” “Wait that was unintentional-“

He never got to confess. But at least he won the game.

Second Operation: food

On the day he was free he barged into the Sumeru tavern, causing a few scholar to run out screaming as he approached the counter with menacing aura. 

“One charcoal cake. Do you have a pink ribbon? Wrap it with a pink ribbon. Maybe add a heart on the cake if possible. Write the name ‘Y/N’ on it. I expect no word comes out about me here.”

When you see it, you roar with laughter. “Bruh, this is the funniest thing you pulled so far!”

Tighnari gets no sleep that night as Cyno comes into his room and murmurs by himself in the corner, confused as to what exactly is he doing wrong.

Third Operation: physical contact

Cyno wipes his hand on his shorts for the 15th time as he awaits for you at Gandarvha Ville. Today was the day of his next operation: hand holding.

Cyno wasn’t the type to force any physical contact, unless it’s to punish all evil wrongdoing. But today he was going to go the opposite way. 

He will brush his hand against yours, and if you don’t move away he will then proceed to look into your eyes as a sign of love affirmation. You will be struck by his determination and then he will move to intertwine his fingers with yours. And then he will confess. 

“Hey Cyno! You’re here early,” you appear in your goddess glory, your smile so dazzling the Mahamatra has to block it out with his hand. 

“What a sight to behold.” “Did you say something?”

When you two walked together, people were clearing the path. You figured it was because of Cyno’s title, but in reality it was because of his red shot eyes that was glaring at your hand. 

Above you both is Tighnari using his binoculars to watch you both. He mutters curses specially at the Matra, and Cyno could’ve sworn he felt chills go down his spine for no reason. 

Do it now you imbecile! Touch her hand! What in the archons are you doing? 

Cyno’s heart was thumping so fast he thought you could hear it. He swallowed as he stared at your hand, the delicate fingers that was tempting him to lic-hold it. 

“Cyno?” He snapped his attention to your worried face. He inhaled when you step so close to him that your faces were mere inches away. 

Tighnari gasped. Are you guys kissing? Why the hell are you guys kissing first?

“Are you okay? You look really stressed,” Your eyebrows furrow together, your cheeks pouting out so slightly. 

Your magnificent breath tickled his face, your doe eyes peering into his wide dilated ones. He could smell the faint chicken wings you ate earlier on your body. He could see your collar bones just saying hello to him. Your hair tickle his face as well as his bangs to yours. He looks back up to your eyes and he finally utters his response.

“Stressed? More like I’m a damsel in distress.”

Tighnari to this day doesn’t know how that was a joke to Cyno.

Operation four: Just confess

“Now we all know you have this natural instinct of throwing in a stupid joke out of nowhere,” Tighnari covers Cyno’s mouth before he could retort. “Now imagine I am Y/N. Show me how you’re going to confess to me.”

“No what the f-” “Do you really want to ruin the biggest operation with another joke?” “…”

Cyno sighs and the two boys sit facing each other. Tighnari crosses his arms and mimics your voice in a ridiculously high tone, “Hey Cyno! What’s up?” 

“Hey Y/N, um…there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you,” Cyno inhales, trying to pretend the boy in front of him was his favorite girl. He smiles when his decent looking friend’s face morphs into your beautiful features. “We’ve been friends for so long and I know it’s definitely hard to believe but…I really like you. To me, you’re the most beautiful star in the desert night, the star that guides me to my destination. Will you be mine?”

“Wow Cyno I’m so happy!” Tighnari sings happily with a horrifying giggle. “See, that wasn’t so bad-”

 A big thud silences them all.

The two boys slowly look to the side in horror as both you and Collei stand at the doorway stunned. Collie’s basket is on the floor, and an apple rolls to Cynos’ foot. 

“I always knew master and Cyno had something!” Collei runs out the door, covering her face in glee as her OTP has finally come true.

Cyno’s face pales as you blink at him and then at Tighnari and then back to him. Then you turn away quickly before they can hear you snort with laughter. 

General Mahamatra and General Watchleader weren’t seen for a few days, but there were rumors circulating that the WatchLeader was trying to kill the Mahamatra. 

Final operation: Cyno

“Just be yourself Cyno,” Tigh’s words repeat in the boy’s mind. “What do you think will get your feelings across as Cyno? Think about it, and then face Y/N when you’re ready.”

Truth to be told, Cyno has never been open about his own feelings to anyone before. Sure, he told his best (and only) friend that he likes you, sure he beat up sinners to express his irritation of them forcing him out into the desert for three days just to bring them back, but it’s different with you. 

He enjoyed all the times he’s had with you, all the moments where you and him argued about who won, the moments where you fed him food when he was loaded with work, the moments when you smiled at him when he would come to see you...he treasured every single second.

He was scared that if you did not return his feelings, your friendship would be broken. You meant that much to him.

But he knew if this one-sided feeling went on much longer he will go crazy and full of hope. He can decide how to proceed with his feelings once he gets an answer from you.

You finally appear. You look around the rather grassy area, before looking up at the night sky full of stars.

Cyno watches with adoration as your eyes light up at the sky. It must be the same look he has when he’s with you. 

He silently approaches you with a familiar book in his hand, and you finally see him.

He hands you the book and you blink at it curiously before you open the book and read the contents.

He slowly smiles as a blush spread across your cheeks as you read over each operation listed down and the attempts the poor boy made to gain your affection.

“How did I miss all this?” You whisper, bringing the back of your hand to your face as your ears burn. “Cyno I...”

He places a hand on your arm and comes forward. His eyes are so full of desperation you can already hear what’s he going to say. 

“I’m not supposed to be…having these feelings as a Matra. It’ll only get in the way, but...I do have feelings for you Y/N. I enjoy my time with you, I enjoy eating with you. I enjoy fighting with you. I like you. I am in love with you. Will you be the padisarah to my Duel Soul recipe?”

A few days later rumors go around that the General Mahamatra has been stalking a certain girl and the girl is a criminal waiting to be caught in the act. 

It’s only a few days later (again) that there is confirmation that the girl is actually the General Mahamatra’s beloved girlfriend.

Omg this was so bad but so funny at the same time aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Sorry if this seemed so rushed, but it came to me in the middle of the night, and I had to write it all down! Hope you guys enjoyed it! :,)

Edit: whoa thanks for the love guys! Can’t believe this got so much attention, I’m happy I managed to give some laughs!

[emphistic]

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄

𝐀/𝐍: royal AUs have my heart

𝐖/𝐂: around 2.8k

“C’mon, princess. Surely you can do a little better than that, right?” Sukuna crossed his arms.

“Maybe if you stopped wiggling and moving around like a worm.” Huffing, you grabbed another arrow from your quiver and, after nocking it to the string, released.

A hiss! sounded through the secluded forest as the arrow whizzed! and flew past, but you only managed to hit the tree bark beside Sukuna’s left ear, and sighed in discouragement.

When your parents arranged this whole ordeal between you both — where every summer either Sukuna would come stay at your castle or you would stay at his estate, it was in hopes that you two would grow closer and eventually wed. It all started when you were a lot younger, maybe a little older than ten years. But all you knew, at that time, was that Sukuna was annoying, he was snobby, and he was rude. He was a boy. A boy you had to spend a whopping three months with every year.

Chasing each other around the castle: playing tag until you both fell into a pile of exhausted limbs and a fit of laughter was bad.

It was bad.

Riding your ponies through the quiet and lush unexplored land, and pointing out especially beautiful birds, flowers, sunsets, was bad.

It was bad.

Sneaking out past curfew onto each other’s balconies and talking till you unintentionally fell asleep with either your head on his shoulder or against his chest was bad.

It was bad.

Archery was something you two only started doing recently, since you both had grown — in age — drastically. And it wasn’t any better than the rest of your previously spent pastimes.

“Uh huh. Did I move just a second ago? No, thought so.”

You rolled your eyes in response. Sukuna approached in a few quick strides, his long legs bringing him over to you, before he flicked your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow! What was that for?” you whined, rubbing the same spot.

“It’s you; you’re the problem, sweetheart. — Not me. You have a terrible aim, let’s face it. But, not all is lost; everyone has to start somewhere.”

“Yeah, right. You know what, Sukuna?” You jabbed a finger into his firm chest, sticking your nose in the air to get a good look at his stupid, stupid face. “I’m not the problem; matter of fact: it’s you. — Dickhead. The only reason you accomplish so many feats, prizes, win so many championships with your little fuckass bow, and are called so great and so proficient is because all your opponents take one look at your hideousness and mistake you for a—for a monster.” You pulled your finger away, for a second, before jabbing it right back into the center of his chest.

Sukuna stared down at you with half-lidded and darkening eyes; his gaze so intense you almost pulled a ‘just kidding!’ and dashed away.

I mean, it couldn’t possibly be too late for that, right?

But you stood your ground. For, you didn’t want to seem like a coward. — That’s exactly what he wanted. And that’s exactly what you didn’t want.

Sukuna leaned down, eye level, and so close to your face that you felt his breath grace your face. It was warm, yet chilled you to the core and sent shivers down your spine.

He gently cupped your cheek with his rough hand, and, bringing his lips to your ear, whispered, “You dare to call me a monster? Oh, pretty girl, I’ll show you how much of a monster I can be.”

You placed both of your palms upon his chest, hoping to keep at least some distance between the two of you. But, it seemed like your efforts were in vain, because the man before you only came impossibly closer, forcing you back farther and farther until your back hit the tree behind, and you knew you had ultimately lost the game.

“S’kuna,” you whimpered, as a piece of bark poked through the fabric of your clothes. “What are you—what are you doing?” Your voice was soft; Sukuna liked that. — A lot. He, actually, relished in the fact he had so much control over you, and you didn’t even know it.

“I’m just, y’know — ” Sukuna uncupped your cheek and let his hand trail down your face, tracing across your jawline, before wandering to the nape of your neck, and up into your hair — which was in a mess, by now. He twisted a strand of your hair between his index finger. “ — being the hideous monster I am.” He grabbed, more like bunched up, a handful of your hair, and pulled. — Hard.

“Fuck!” you winced, attempting to shove the male away, but he didn’t even move a centimeter. Instead, he pushed you back against the tree, and pressed his lips against your ear, again.

“You’re right, I’ll admit. I do win, because — to put it simply — because I’m a monster. Because I’m me. Because I’m Sukuna. And you best believe, darling, I’ll make you remember that name even if it takes you to the grave.” His tone was dark, it was rough, and it was cold. A fire burned inside of him, and there was no question what started it and what would extinguish it.

His hand gripped onto your neck, and you just knew it would bruise a pretty blue.

“You! Sukuna, you’re—you’re hurting me. . .” Your voice trailed off. And your breaths came in gasps, occurring between long intervals.

“Isn’t that what monsters do, hm?” His face came impossibly close to yours, your eyes locking together, before you wavered and you looked elsewhere, desperate to escape his gaze. But, the tip of his finger pulled you right back.

“Ah, ah, ah. Silly girl. Don’t you know, keeping eye contact with whomever you’re speaking to is almost vital?”

“I . . . stop. I’m not—I’m not doing this with you, Sukuna, not again I’m not.”

You finally managed to shove him off — because he allowed you to, but you didn't need to know that — and rushed away, while you still had the chance, through the servants’ corridor, and into the castle.

Like prey escaping from predator.

The clock had rung four times when you entered the kitchen area, in search of something to refresh you. A cooling drink was in your mind, but apparently someone else was also.

As soon as you caught sight of that damned pink-haired idiot, leaning against the long table, you turned around.

“Aww, don't be like that, princess. Come sit on my face and let my tongue say sorry.”

“Like Hell. I don’t let just anyone do that, especially not buffoons like you,” you spat out, like venom, albeit still murmuring that last part. “I can’t even stand looking at your ugly, stupid face.” To be honest, it was quite difficult to keep up a front, as you were still a little shaken up from earlier.

"What a pretty liar you are.” His gaze dropped down to your lips.

“Me? Lying? You’re delirious. Oh well. Must be the wine talking.” You used your head to gesture at the cup sloshing with red liquid in his grasp, before you waved your own hand in a dismissing manner.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, in truth: he wasn’t expecting to meet you here, but, in truth — again: he wasn’t disappointed, at all.

“Is it good? It better be, ‘cause that’s the last time you’ll ever drink something unpoisoned.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, sweetheart. I would drink poison if it meant I could do this after.” He brought the bronze goblet to his lips, and pulled you into him by an arm hooking around your waist, before tipping your chin with his finger and slotting his lips against yours.

You gasped, stunned at his bluntness, but, nevertheless, didn’t protest.

Sukuna’s hands were rough, when they found their rightful place and rested on your hips. But they were even rougher when they worked to pin you down in place, keeping you from squirming.

“Don’t try to run away,” he murmured, placing the goblet back onto the table, without pulling away from you.

“Ahh,” you whimpered, your eyelashes fluttering shut. The bitterness of the wine combined with the burning sensation in your throat was almost overstimulating.

Sukuna took his chance and parted your lips farther, slipping his tongue in.

He was sloppy as he deepened the kiss, eager to finally have his way with the woman he had been dreaming of since God knows how long, and he was, also, seemingly greedy.

After all, Sukuna wasn’t planning on letting you go. Not when he had to wait this long. But, despite this, he would do it all over again, if he had to. He would play the waiting game. He would play, and he would win.

“Admit it. You wanted to keep going earlier. I know you did; I know you do. And I know — that if we hadn’t stopped right then and there, we never would’ve. Admit it.” He dragged out every syllable in that last sentence.

You felt dirty. But fuck, you felt good.

All the same, right?

His grip was searing hot against your skin, and it shocked you right to the core; you felt like melting in his arms.

You panted against his lips, still not having pulled away. “S’kuna,” you slurred, “I—mmph!”

“C’mon. I know you’ve got it in you. Use your big girl words,” he teased, grinning into the kiss. He was not about to make this easy for you, and you knew it. You knew it damn well.

Sukuna seemed to devour you as every second passed by on the clock. “Please, I. . .”

“Hm? Please what, baby?”

Your body was rapidly growing hot all over. The room felt like an oven, and you felt like you were suffocating. Sukuna was overwhelming, more or less. But you wanted more. You needed more.

“I—S’kuna, more! ‘tis not enough,” you whined.

When he pulled away, you felt like crying, your lip jutting out into a pout and trembling. Sukuna thought you looked adorable. But when you realized he was giving you a moment to fix yourself, you did so.

Catching your breath seemed like an impossible feat, but in the end, it didn’t matter anyway.

You looked at the ground beneath your feet, before raising your head, and meeting crimson eyes, which, the more you stared at, seemed like an endless void.

You wrapped your arms around Sukuna’s neck, and, seeking stability on your wobbly legs, pressed yourself closer to him, but only whimpered and bit your lip when your hard nipples rubbed against his chest.

“Ngh—!”

Sukuna stifled a laugh.

He trailed one of his hands — previously resting on your hip — up your torso, and tangled it in your hair. And, upon leaning down, breathed in the scent of your floral shampoo.

“Mmm. Look so pretty. And you taste it, too. Isn’t that right, my little vixen.” He smiled, baring his canines.

Your face heated up, and your cheeks burned severely as you felt a tingling sensation in your stomach.

Sukuna moved his hand to the swell of your ass, doing the same with the other hand, before hoisting you up into his arms, and making you instinctively wrap your legs around his torso, and tighten your arms around his neck, afraid of falling.

You were, in no way, prepared for that, and let out a high pitched squeal before you could even process the fact. And then, to top it all off, Sukuna sat you down onto the kitchen table, unintentionally knocking down the goblet from earlier.

The wine’s maroon-colored liquid spilled onto the wood, and Sukuna knew you were going to reprimand him later on when you found it stained, but that’s not what was important right now.

Like prey escaping from predator, you had your chances, and you still lost.

Yet, you wanted more, and Sukuna was going to give you everything.

And everything, he gave.

“Yeah, I’m done waiting. Sorry, baby. Foreplay’s over. Time to have some real fun.”

You would be lying if you said you didn't like the way he was a little mean. The sight of occasional flashes of his sharp canines whenever he laughed in your face or gave unhinged grins always made up for it.

He wasn’t afraid of hurting you, he knew he would never do such a thing, and filled you with strong, rough thrusts. — That made you see stars.

The unfamiliar ecstasy and pleasure of having him deep inside of your walls made you gasp, elicit breathy moans, and claw at his shoulders. Surely drawing blood.

“S’kuna—mmph! I—ngh!” You tightened your legs around his waist, as Sukuna pulled back before fucking into you once more.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to see you go completely dumb. He wanted to see you come undone on his cock.

You entreated Sukuna multiple times, scratching at his broad back with your nails, but all your requests came out incoherent.

“Fuck,” he moaned; he felt like he was in heaven with the way you whimpered and whined and screamed his name. “Ah, shit. What—what is it, baby? Hahh, use your words. Just like how I taught you.”

“S-someone’s going to ah, come in at any second—”

“Bet you’d like that, huh? You want some nobody to see how much of a slut you are. You wouldn’t mind, don’t lie.”

You face flushed uncontrollably at his filthy words.

“Ah, so you do like that. I can feel you clench around me, dirty girl.” He wore a shit-eating grin on his face.

You wanted to slap that cocky smirk off his face, but at the same time, it was all too much; you couldn’t stifle your mewls, whimpering his name in embarrassment.

One of his large hands pressed down on your lower stomach, showing the outline of his cock, making you squirm. You repeated his name wildly, like a prayer, but with neither a proper intention nor a consciousness of what you were doing.

“Ngh—”

By this moment, you were completely gone. Your head was wiped white, nothing left. Only Sukuna. And your mouth was only slipping out mindless cries.

You peaked an eye open when you heard Sukuna grunt, and saw, through blinking back your tears, his eyes darkening. You quickly realized —

He was holding back.

You were fucked. Literally and figuratively.

He picked up the pace drastically, and you bit your lip to try and contain as much of the sinful noises as you could. The strong thrusts he’d previously been giving you were not even close to how hard he went on you now.

You liked his mouth on you earlier, and the way he handled you with such ease, carelessly running his hands down your body, but you had to admit, this was even better.

He leaned down and bit your neck — with so much might you almost cried out from the mix of pain and pleasure — and groaned, when he breathed in your smell.

You were a living, breathing, talking aphrodisiac to him. A drug. Fuel for the monster inside of him. And wind to the fire that burned unwaveringly.

He was so thick, so long; you whimpered even at a mere twitch of his cock stuffed deep inside of you.

“Sukuna . . . I—mmph—please, I can’t.”

“Then don’t.” His words were firm, and you came almost immediately with a last, final, hard thrust.

The feeling of you running your nails up and down his arms, and pushing yourself even closer to his body, made him lose it as he came just moments after you.

“Fuck.”

You thought he bark-laughed because he noticed the way you couldn’t even sit up straight on the kitchen table, and had to lean on his chest to be even semi-stable. But really, he was actually laughing because he noticed two maids peeking into the kitchen to start preparing dinner — wary of the previous sounds reverberating through the walls and kitchen corridor, but almost fainted at the sight of you both. One the women had to fan herself after witnessing such a scandalous sight.

This was the talk of the servants for weeks to come.

It was all they gossiped, murmured, and whispered about. And it didn’t help that Sukuna was now practically attached to your hip, always eating his meals beside you — instead of in his rightful spot at the table, always sneaking into your bathing quarters after your maids left you alone, he was always with you. In one way, or another.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura @xiraxdl

A/N: if you're on my taglist and prefer not to be tagged in smut, lmk